


Perfection

by cadkitten



Category: Batman Beyond
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Frottage, M/M, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 11:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12253479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Gotham has fallen deep into the yawning pit of darkness that is a world without Batman. Nightwing has done his best since that fatal night, but one old man can only do so much.When Terry comes into his life, how will it shake things up? How will Gotham react to having someone so veryBatin its midst once again?





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> For my writing challenge #21 Ghost of the Past  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena

Dick scrubbed his hand over his face, sitting back in his chair with a quiet sigh. It had been a _long_ day. Longer than he was used to, if he were being completely honest. 

The morning had been filled with pointless meetings he rather wanted out of, things he _still_ had to do for Wayne Enterprises despite how long it had been since anything he said even mattered. Requirements and things he was expected to show up for if only for his face to appear in some magazine or other. The afternoon hadn't managed to engage him any further over some socialite _bullshit_ that he'd once sworn he would never end up engaged in. 

Really, he just wanted the simplicity of a life that he'd once had _back_. But such things had gone away when Bruce had died, left him the heir to a fortune he didn't want, to a life he didn't want to live – and he'd thought Bruce would have known that, really. Would have seen right down into his core and _understood_ that this wasn't at all what he had in mind for himself when he'd looked at ten or twenty years in the future. 

All the same, his will had listed Richard Grayson as the only heir to everything he had. Some part of him had been angry – maybe angry was too soft of a word for it – that Tim hadn't been included. After everything that had gone wrong, after _Joker_ –

Well, Dick had thought perhaps Bruce would have at least made it up to him with some money, some... _something_.

As it was, Dick had made it right himself after signing all the proper documentation. He'd signed over exactly half of Bruce's liquidated assets to Tim, tucked it away in an account and dropped off the information he needed with nothing more than a few kind words and a hug he hadn't been able to stop himself from giving. 

Once upon a time, Tim had been _everything_. He'd been Dick's outlet for all of his nervous energy, had been a logical sounding board for who he was and who he wanted to be. He'd been the only person Dick had ever told he _didn't_ want the cowl. Not then, not ever.

He supposed, at least, Bruce hadn't left him an option there. He'd taken it off the table just as he had nearly force fed his business to him. The Bat was to be retired, delivered to its grave along with Bruce. Let the public think what they may. The instructions on the computer had told him to claim whatever he wanted for Nightwing, to let the other heroes claim what was needed beyond the few things on an explicit _destroy_ list, and then do whatever he wanted with the cave itself.

That had been the hardest part for him; deciding what to do with Bruce's legacy. In the end, he'd placed one of Bruce's suits on the back wall, encased it in glass and stood it alongside Tim's Robin costume from so long ago, _donated_ the rest – sans parts that could be used to harm, of course – to anyone wanting to memorialize the Bat. 

He'd waited a month, taken a few outings as the Bat, and then he'd made the announcement as Nightwing that Batman _was dead_. He let the community mourn as he had been doing in private for what had already felt like so very long. He'd watched the grief and the tears, the absolute devastation of the public, and he had understood then that Batman hadn't just been the city's protector. He'd been _hope_.

And _that_ had split him open inside.

Months had dragged into years and Dick had found himself floundering despite having others along the way. Batgirl and Orphan, Spoiler and some little punk that had been trying to be Robin for near on a year before giving up with the realization that fighting Gotham was always a losing battle.

He'd been the only consistency for so long now that it made it difficult whenever someone new showed up. Made him _distrust_ in a way he could once recall Bruce having done when Tim had come along. Made him prickle with jealousy because this was _his_ city.

Even now, he sat hunched over the computer terminal, his head in his hands and the sick feeling in his stomach that had been there for _weeks_ , and he railed hard against what had put it there. 

Some kid fresh out of juvie had caught his attention on the feeds exactly 17 days ago. There was nothing there that should have drawn him to him, nothing particularly spectacular about the boy other than the fact that his aptitude scores reflected someone with above average intelligence. 

Okay, so maybe _above average_ was cutting it short on the guy. Aside from two other people at his school, his scores were well into the genius range and his usual demeanor hadn't hinted at him wanting to be involved in the sort of thing he had been. It _bothered_ Dick, if only because it reminded him of who Tim could have been if Bruce hadn't intervened in his life. Of who he'd watched so many others become due to circumstance alone. 

The kid had a single mother, a little brother, and pouring over their financial record had clearly screamed why he'd done it. Too much debt, not enough credits, and the eighty or so job applications in a two month time span from the kid alone told Dick all he really needed to know. He'd _tried_ the right path, hadn't had any luck with it, and so he'd chosen the other option to get them out of hot water.

He'd chosen _wrong_ , if only due to who he'd thrown his cards in with. The wrong person, the wrong time, the wrong hit.

Dick sat back and stared at the screen again, watching surveillance footage of the kid sitting in the park. He saw the steel in his eyes, the determination of someone who knew what they were doing, who had shoved it all down for the end result. He saw someone who had turned off everything except the parts they needed for the job he'd been given, and _that_ drove Dick to finally break the one rule he had told himself he never would.

Pushing himself up from the computer chair, he winced at the way his back pulled, at the pain radiating through his left hip and the tender way his right big toe told him he really had to let up on the nighttime parkour. 

The truth was... maybe he needed help.

\---------------

Dick told himself for the hundredth time that what he was doing was _right_. Trusting in someone, despite the fact that it could potentially backfire on him, really wasn't his forte these days, but he reminded himself that it once had been one of his foundations. Utmost trust to bring someone into the fold. It had been _life_ once upon a time.

It had been life with Tim.

He stepped off the elevator and made his way down the hallway to the proper door, hesitating a second before raising his hand and knocking. He could hear the shuffle of people on the other side, a feminine voice call out, "Terry, hunny, can you get that?" and then the sound of footsteps toward the door, faint though they were in comparison to the rest of the noise.

There was a moment's hesitation and then the door was opened and Terry's very shocked face stared back at him. 

"Uh..." and that was the blanket of recognition clouding this kid's eyes, of that Dick was certain. "Mr. Grayson, how may I help you?"

Dick shifted slightly, put on his most blindingly brilliant smile and held out his hand. "I'm here for you, actually. Terry McGinnis, correct?"

There was a second where Dick was certain Terry was going to actually forget to start breathing again, but then he stepped back and gestured inward. "Would you like to come in?"

Dick stepped past the threshold, but kept himself in the entryway, opening his bag and pulling out the folder of documents he'd drawn up. "I have a job proposition for you. This may seem _odd_ , but your scores were sent to me on a few aptitude tests and it seems that a few of the things left to me by Bruce Wayne might be a bit more up your alley than they are my own." He tipped his head, playing into the charming young man he'd once been – long before he'd become this tired old man – and he played it loose with his smile. "See, he had a lot of computers and stuff that are _supposed_ to be helping with some of the stuff for Wayne Enterprises, but there's this entire chunk that no one can figure out, but from your programming scores, we think it might be worth it to have someone fresh look at it and you seemed a good fit to offer it to. I'd like you to come tonight to see everything before you accept or decline it." He paused and then, "Fully paid of course. Think of it like a part time job you get full time pay for."

Terry blinked owlishly at him, rifling through the papers he'd taken from Dick's grasp and letting out a quiet breath. "I know this girl, Max, at school and I think she might be better qualified for this kind of thing. I mean –"

Dick held up his hand. "We have seen her scores as well. It's the manner in which you go about solving the problems that draws us to you instead. Not so much like a straight line as the abstract art path to the answer. We need something like that for all of this."

Terry chewed his tongue for a moment and then shook his head a little. "Yeah... alright. I'll come see it."

\---------------

It took them less than an hour to find themselves standing not in the manor, but instead in the midst of the cave and by Dick's perception it took Terry about six seconds to piece everything together and breathe out the quietest and most reverent, " _Dude_ ," Dick had ever heard. All of twenty seconds to end up standing next to Dick's own prototype shelf, and under a minute to start looking like a kid in a candy shop.

He waited patiently, arms loosely over his chest, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched Terry flit around the cave for a few more minutes, never touching, but always hovering his hands over items his mind clearly wanted him to examine more closely. He could _see_ the cogs turning in his mind, the pleasure rolling off of him nearly palpable. 

"If this was Mr. Wayne's, then _he_ was Batman and that explains all the discrepancies in the last month of Batman's appearances before he died. It... it was _you_ , which means –" he stopped in his excited pacing along the suits on the back wall.

"You're Nightwing."

Not a question.

Dick just smiled placidly at Terry, watching the _glee_ take up residence on his face as he spun back around and headed right back toward the prototype suits. His hand hovered over the hidden panel in the wall, the cave wall ever so slightly _different_ there, and then he was tracing the edge, leaning in, and then pushing the hidden catch and stepping back as it opened to Dick's current array of suits and weapons. 

Terry's excited huff of air brought Dick closer to him, left him leaning on the railing to watch as reverent fingers slid over his costumes, only touching fabric and not anything else. He was _careful_ and Dick liked that just as much he was liking the idea of having someone by his side again. 

He'd grown broody, _dark_ , much like his former mentor as of late and he disliked that sort of head space just as much as he always had. He'd avoided the cowl for a reason. Avoided becoming Batman for exactly that and yet, even Nightwing was becoming precisely what he wanted to avoid. 

He _needed_ Terry.

That thought was harder to parse with than he'd thought it would be, harder to accept as deeply as was necessary when faced with the person in question mere feet from him, but he swallowed down the surface protests, focused instead on the overwhelming _light_ in his gut, the relief in his limbs at the idea of having _help_ , and he laid his offer on the table.

"What I spoke of in your apartment was just the cover for the truth. I'd have you working nights because of your school while you'd really be," he gestured, "doing this. I'd train you, of course, make sure you had all the right moves before we set you out on the street, but –" here was the hard part, where he swallowed his pride and sucked it up and told the _truth_ , "Nightwing needs help out there."

He watched the war play itself out on Terry's face: the self-doubt, the disbelief, the pure _glee_ , the seriousness of actual intelligent consideration, and then, quietly, "Do you honestly believe I'm the right fit for this? I mean, _surely_ you're aware that I've been in juvie." There it was, the real clincher and Dick leaned more on the railing, letting his stare pierce right into Terry the way Bruce's had once done to him.

"I see a desperate teen trying to do what he felt he had to for his family. I also see someone who would have gotten away with it if he hadn't trusted the wrong person... and I see a potential for that to be put to use somewhere _far_ better for you, for society, and for this damn hellhole of a city." He pushed off the railing and came around, mounting the stairs and coming to stop beside Terry, his hand on the glass case holding his prototype. "I need someone with sharp senses out there. You've got the athletic ability already, the drive to do what's needed, and I think you offer enough of a change in perspective that it would make us valuable to one another. Your intelligence is icing on the damn cake." He shrugged. "There truly are projects Bruce left behind that I don't have the first clue about and if your scores are half as good as they suggest you may be then maybe you'll finally unravel a few of those mysteries while we're at it."

Terry looked at the suits, lightly chewing on one nail as he pondered what Dick had said. He opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitation painting his features, before asking, "So, what, I'd be the Robin to your Nightwing? Or would you take up Batman again?"

Dick let out a snort before he could hold it back, shaking his head, his hand dropping from the glass in front of him. "I never wanted to be _Batman_. If I had, I would have done it regardless of what the old man said." He gestured vaguely toward his suits. "I've always been Nightwing and always will be. Even when I was Robin, I think I was destined for _this_. I needed it, needed to be under Bruce's wing like that, but this is where I belonged. And Robin? I think two were enough. Especially after what happened with Joker and Robin Number Two." He _hated_ leaving Tim's name out of it, disliked not speaking to one of the greatest minds he'd ever known had been, but that wasn't his secret to give. It never had been.

"I think the city needs a _new_ Batman." Dick reached up and tapped the case with the mostly black prototype suit. "I think it's time Gotham learns what it's like to have Batman back, to re-learn what that means for its underbelly, and to understand that it's not going to be _just_ Nightwing out there anymore. Gotham needs _fear_ back in its heart and Batman's always been the only one who could really do that."

\---------------

Dick hadn't expected the request to _wait_ , but when it had come, he found that it fit with who he had imagined Terry to be just as much as all of his other reactions had. 

It had taken a week before Terry had sent him a single word text in the midst of a board meeting from hell. 

A simple _yes_.

Nothing had kept the smile from his face for the rest of the day and he'd even cut out early to find Terry after school and steal him away for the evening. 

They built plans to keep Terry after school for a while, to train him during those hours so Nightwing could still go out at night and Terry could still be rested for school in the mornings, and for _months_ that worked out just fine. Terry could still have a life outside of this one though Dick took note that he was drawing himself back to a few close friends instead of the many he'd had before. It wasn't abrupt, but sort of a natural degradation in the quantity of people in his life, slowly and systematically removing the ones that – as Dick quickly discovered – Terry wasn't sure he could trust. 

As they slipped his schedule later and later, Dick watched Max start to take up the position of covering for him, explaining away his absences as him doing things with or for her, and he recalled with fondness the few people in his life that had once done the same for him. Covering why Dick Grayson had slipped out of some gala or why he'd fallen asleep sprawled across his desk. He saw a brightness of friendship there that he wouldn't begrudge anyone, and it made him happy that Terry had _someone_.

He kept those thoughts to himself.

\---------------

The first night on the streets was less of a disaster than Dick had anticipated. He recalled both his own and Tim's first attempts at doing what they'd been training for out on the streets and he remembered fumbled lines, half-assed quips, and pretty clearly recalled having to be saved no fewer than three times by Batman his first night out. Tim had come in at a smooth _one_ for his fuck-ups the first night, so perhaps Dick should have expected that Terry would clock in at a solid _zero_ incidents that were not subverted without Dick's interaction. 

Granted, some of it was still sloppy, a little uncertain in a couple of places, but as the night had gone on, he'd watched Terry hesitate less, pull back less, and throw more of himself into the game until it was cool as clockwork. 

\---------------

Weeks bled into months and before long, Dick was flying the nights with Terry by his side – letting him lead as often as he did himself. They swapped cases with one another, let whoever had the stronger sense of direction on where something should go take over without hesitation, and Dick appreciated that _beyond_ compare. He'd always loathed being second seat to something he knew he could have solved faster but he'd equally hated researching something alone when two eyes and minds were always better than one.

Tim... he hadn't minded that as much. He liked his solo missions, had taken them upon himself nearly from the get-go and Bruce had let him with an easy flow that Dick's own actions had taught him over the years. 

Everyone was different.

Different as they were, Terry tended more toward reacting the way Dick did. He was an easy read for Dick if only because when Dick would think to go right, Terry would already be doing it. They worked in the field like he and Bruce once had – in brilliant tandem with one another. Dick could find no fault with having brought Terry on board, no regret in his actions. 

\---------------

Dick watched as Terry dismounted from the training equipment, wiping his hands over his sweats as he made his way toward where Dick was sitting. 

He'd been watching Terry for nearly the past half an hour, his mind roving over a variety of thoughts – meandering between pieces of their current cases, over their cover story for the work they were doing tonight, and delicately across subjects he _knew better_ than to be thinking of. 

Things were easier now that Terry had graduated high school, college classes easily manipulated into time slots that worked for both Terry getting any sleep and for the pair of them to work the nights together. 

In a way, Dick had been surprised when Terry had sat down with him and discussed his desires for a degree, spoken to him about which path to take and how long he should calculate in what was needed. He hadn't expected to be included that intimately in Terry's life outside of cleaning up Gotham's nightlife, but he couldn’t say he was displeased by it. If anything, it left him feeling warm in his gut, something he supposed Bruce had felt with both him and Tim at some point. 

He could feel the old ache settle with those thoughts, the yawning pull of the abyss that he knew had claimed Bruce as its own all those years ago, and he avoided it like the plague. 

_Nothing_ in him wanted to follow in Bruce's footsteps there.

He blinked Terry back into focus, offering up a tired smile, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake it all off.

"Someone looks like he could use the night off." Terry's hand ghosted over his shoulder, settling and then squeezing in exactly the right place that Dick struggled not to moan at the way it immediately eased tension across his back and down his arm. His chair spun him so he was looking at the wall beside the computer and then both of Terry's hands were there, working deep into the muscles that had plagued him for days now. 

Dick let his head drop forward with a sigh. "Less a night off and more a night away from my mind," he confessed, a wry smile on his lips as he recalled how he had once done that sort of getaway. "Too old for the way I used to escape."

Terry's fingers dug in a bit harder and then his breath was hot across Dick's ear. "Oh? Having problems getting it up now, are we?"

Dick _actually_ choked on his next breath, shock at Terry's blunt words filtering through him, _more_ shocked that he knew what Dick had once gotten up to in order to lose himself. Then again... it had probably been in Bruce's files somewhere, perhaps even in his usual detached tone of reporting things. 

_Robin seems to tend toward utilizing sexual activities as his favored way of escape._

Okay, so maybe not so blunt, but Dick was sure it was close to that. 

He managed a strangled sort of snort. "Well, now that you bring it up..." he gave Terry a second to opt out of this information, waited on a disgusted sound or perhaps a plea to _please_ leave him out of it. When none came, he smirked toward the wall and continued. "I'll thank you to remember that I do _not_ require pharmaceutical help in the bedroom." He tipped his head and tried not to shrug so as to not undo all that Terry had one for his shoulders in one movement. "Mostly just suck at being anywhere to _meet_ anyone these days, that's all." He hesitated and then plowed on forward, letting himself have this confessional. "There's no one at Wayne Enterprises that catches my eye and I don't relish falling into Bruce's old habits with the galas and random flings on my arm."

"So there's no one?" Terry's fingers stopped pressing, started firmly smoothing out over the muscles with the words.

Dick scrunched his nose, did a quick dodge of his wayward thoughts in his mind, and narrowly avoided shrugging again. "Guess not."

Terry's hands paused, settled warm on his shoulders and Dick could have sworn he felt something change in the air around them. "Could have fooled me."

The comment left Dick with an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt a bit like he was starving, as though his entire belly were a cavern just waiting to be filled while at the same time it felt like lead weights had been attached to his entire circulatory system, dragging him down to a sluggish, murky sort of existence for a few precious seconds before he got himself in gear. There was _no way_ Terry could have picked up on a few errant thoughts, a few haphazard moments where Dick had forcibly removed his mind from wherever it had been going over the past few months. 

He was _testing_. That's all there was to it. He had to be feeling out the waters, seeing if Dick would bite. Seeing if – 

But Dick knew it was all already too late. He knew it from the hitch in Terry's breath, knew it from the slight lift in his own heart rate, and he damn well knew it from the way his mind started screaming at him that he was _way_ old enough to be Terry's father. 

He could feel himself wanting to shift into the clipped abruptness of Bruce's replies when he'd once offered up a similar scenario for Bruce to think upon. He remembered the immediate snap to _Batman_ in Bruce's eyes, the hard lines of his shoulders and the cold, uncaring look that had shuttered down over his eyes before he'd told Dick to take the night off and go get himself laid. 

He remembered the feeling of watching Bruce walk away from him. The way his heart had sunk to his feet, the way he'd felt for weeks after that – as though he didn't belong anymore. As though he'd crossed some invisible line in bringing up what he'd only thought was _obvious_. 

Mostly, he recalled hiding all of his true emotions away from Bruce after that. Showing him Nightwing's face regardless of where they were or who should have been standing in front of him.

Wincing, he pushed the desire to _lie_ away, settled for staring down at the way his hands were twined together in his lap. "That obvious?" He heard the gentle intake of breath and then Terry's hands were massaging him again, though Dick was certain he could feel a different sort of touch in them now. 

"Not unless you're looking for it." Terry gave a soft hum, a thoughtful little sound that left Dick thinking of Tim, that brought a smile to his lips before he could stop it, a certain fondness lighting up inside him at that. "It's not like you're staring at me and panting or something. Just... I dunno, the way you sort of get lost in your thoughts around me and I can tell when they shift _to_ me and then with how quickly you pull away from that, I sort of took a guess."

Dick shrugged this time, tired of holding back the motion that so sincerely wanted out. "Guess creepy old man comes with the territory."

Terry's hands paused. "Bruce wanted you?"

This time Dick let himself sigh. "In my _dreams_ maybe. I mean, I thought for sure he did once... but when I pushed a little it was like being confronted with a brick wall."

Terry hummed, shifted forward and looped his arms around Dick's shoulders, leaning his head on his own arm. "Tell me, did you confront him when it would have been _acceptable_ or was this some kind of childhood crush awkward shit?"

Dick didn't stop himself from the laugh that bubbled out, tipped his head back against Terry's shoulder and sighed as he closed his eyes. "Probably the latter. Things kind of blur together for me at this point, but it was definitely before I left Robin behind. There's not much wiggle room there for it to have been what you'd call _acceptable_."

"So let me lay this out for ya. Imagine it." Terry's hand shifted, spanned across the air in front of Dick's face as if to give him a panoramic view of the past. "Little Robin – in his tight little leaves-nothing-to-the-imagination shorts – confronts big bad _Batman_ about the possibility of said Bat wanting to _fraternize_ with little Robin." He dropped his hand back to keep Dick looped in his arms. "That gives so few options. Admit to wanting to bang the shit out of Robin and thus admit to being a terribly dirty old man... or put up a wall so that the question is null and void no matter what the answer is. I mean, there's a myriad of other options if you're not _Bruce_ , but from what I've seen of his profiles done over the years, those are the only two options presented in that big Bat brain. You didn't exactly give him another valid out."

"Well, when you put it that way –"

Terry's lips brushed over his ear, effectively silencing him and for an instant he could have sworn he felt the barest hint of tongue along his earlobe. "Now... imagine _this_ scenario. Perfectly _legal_ protégé confronts _very_ attractive mentor, all whilst providing him with every possible out despite the fact that he's looking for _one_ ending."

Heat lanced through Dick faster than he'd thought possible these days. His breath hitched and he didn't bother to stop the shaky way he drew the next one in. 

It must have been too long that he hovered over that exact feeling because the next thing he got was Terry's faintly worried, "Dick?"

Reaching back, Dick snagged Terry's bicep and held on as he pushed his chair around and all but dragged Terry down onto it. He marveled at what was essentially a controlled fall into his lap, watched the array of relief and undeniable arousal display itself on Terry's face, and then he had a man so ridiculously younger than him straddling his lap and he swore his cock was going to get too far ahead of him much too quickly if he wasn't careful. 

His hands settled on Terry's hips and he could already feel the _sex changes things_ lecture forming itself at the back of his throat, wanted to crush it down and smother it out before it so much as completed itself, but at the same time knew it was a _necessity_ given what they did in the field each night.

Terry's lips cut off any hope Dick had of getting the words out, pressed against his so firmly that he arched against Terry's body, held him solidly in place as he ground up against him, suddenly far more desperate than he'd realized he truly was. 

Human contact had been so few and far between for him the past few years and now being presented with the one thing he'd been denying himself for months, all he could do was moan into the kiss and pray he didn't lose it like a virgin. Though, he had to give pause to that thought, to the mere _idea_ that he could be so needy, so devoid of practice that it would feel like that all over again.

His mind snapped back to the present the instant Terry broke their kiss. The sound of his own zipper followed by the shift of Terry's sweats against his fingertip suggested the quickening pace of what was happening and Dick did nothing to avert it. He _ached_ in a way that told him this was exactly what he needed, that anything Terry did to him was more than welcome, and if he was doing it that probably meant he wanted it, too. 

He held no thoughts that Terry might do this for Dick's benefit. He just wasn't that kind of guy. Tim... Tim might have done such a thing long ago. Might have sacrificed his own comfort to placate someone else's demons, but nothing in Terry's profile nor in his interactions with Dick suggested he would even think of such a thing.

The desk drawer rattled to their left and Dick gasped a second later as cool wetness drizzled over his cock, Terry's hand quickly following behind it, pressing them together and starting to stroke. 

Questions of what _exactly_ Terry had been doing at the desk to warrant such a bottle being there died long before they ever made it to Dick's throat. His hips arched and he threw his head back with a shout as he surged up into Terry's quick movements. His hands tightened on Terry's hips, held on as he started to thrust, as he lost every coherent thought to the ones that screamed of pleasure and intensity like he hadn't felt in years. 

Over him, Terry moved just as frantically, though Dick was certain it was born less of not having had this in so long and more of hormonal desperation than anything. Though he was, admittedly, grateful he wasn't the only one losing his mind. 

His hands lifted to slide over Terry's sides and shoulders, down over his chest and then back to his hips, holding him tight as his pleasure became so intense he could barely see through it. He trembled under Terry's body, arched until his thighs burned, thrust until he thought he was going to buck them both out of the chair, and then he was cumming. It was _hot_ and all consuming, a fire that burned him from the inside out, left him scorched and shaking as his cock started to pulse against Terry's. 

Every half-whimpered sound of pleasure in the book fell from his lips as he slowly eased back down against the seat, forced himself to open his eyes and stare up at Terry in a daze. 

He watched Terry lick his hand clean, saw the devilish smirk there, and then Terry was pressed close, his legs hooked behind Dick's, and he was moving again, his cock sliding quickly against Dick's hip as he just outright rutted him, his hips snapping in frantic little jerks, his breathing quick and shallow. It wasn't even a minute before Terry let out a strangled cry that left Dick wishing he had the stamina of his youth because all he wanted to do was produce that noise again. 

Warmth splashed over his hip and he reveled in having a lover cum on him again after all these years. _So many_ years between this and his last time with a male lover in his bed. 

Dick slid his hands up under Terry's shirt, pressed to his back and closed his eyes, letting what he knew had to be a completely dopy smile slide over his lips. 

"You're perfection, kid. Anyone ever tell you that?"


End file.
